


Erratum

by itsjennasaisquoi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Civil War Team Iron Man, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-04-06 20:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsjennasaisquoi/pseuds/itsjennasaisquoi
Summary: Nobody knew of Captain America’s return.Unfortunately, that included Peter Parker.(or: five times Team Cap screwed up + one time they did okay)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *the relationship between Peter and Tony might be a little weird for someone who doesn't read copious amounts of Peter&Tony fluff but hey them's the breaks*

The relatively positive press called them the Rogue Avengers; the negative press had dubbed them the Scavengers. After Leipzig, after Siberia, after the Raft, Captain America and the rest of his motley crew had fled to Wakanda where they took shelter with a slightly suspicious T’Challa. After months of debate and thousands of dollars in litigation fees, the Avengers were reunited once more in the Avengers Tower, and in order to head off any conflict at the pass, both parties agreed that it would be best if they kept these new developments under wraps until Pepper and the rest of the PR team could devise a way to break it to the public. Nobody knew of Captain America’s return.

Unfortunately, that included Peter Parker.

***

The latest additions to the Avengers Tower had arrived that morning. All their stuff was already in place, courtesy of Tony and his crew of Ironman suits that had been temporarily delegated to movers for the occasion. Sam and Clint sat on the edge of the couch, clutching their controllers as alternating cries of victory and defeat echoing throughout the Avengers’ common living room as they battled to the death on the TV screen in front of them. Natasha had stretched across the loveseat with a cheap paperback; Wanda was absently making shapes and designs out of her ethereal red magic; Bucky and Steve were conversing quietly in the corner.

Although both sides had put on civil airs, animosity remained between the two teams. Natasha was the unofficial intermediary between them, and though she was disheartened at the distinct lack of Team Tony in the shared space, she certain that they would resolve their differences eventually.

Probably.

Suddenly, Steve’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards the window.

Sam reluctantly paused the game. “Steve, what--”

“Shh!” Cap whispered, eyes wide. “There’s someone here.”

Everybody in the room immediately went on high alert, hands flying to weapon holsters and bodies dropping into defensive stances. In the silence, the snick of a window closing echoed throughout the space.

Steve took point, creeping towards the door through which the sound had originated in a deep crouch. The others followed, everyone relying on their bare hands save for Natasha, who had somehow managed to conceal a knife somewhere in the folds of her sweatpants. Steve was debating whether or not to open the door when it swung open. A short, slim figure in dark clothing and a hood emerged right into the Captain’s expectant fist. The intruder went flying into a nearby wall, his fall stopped by Steve’s hand curling around his throat and pinning him in place. In the struggle, his hood had slipped off to reveal a young face and wide brown eyes.

Steve was momentarily stilled by the youth of his opponent but quickly recovered, thoughts of boys fighting wars crumbling his instinctive inhibitions.

“Oh my god,” the boy breathed. “You’re Captain America.”

“Yes, he is,” Natasha stated calmly from over Cap’s shoulder. “Now, why don’t you tell us who exactly you are.” Her words formed a question, but her tone heavily implied that it was anything but.

The boy became even more nervous at the interrogation, eyes darting to each of the team members before resting back on Natasha. “I, well you see, I, uh, well…”

Natasha was unimpressed. She jerked her head at Clint, her steely gaze never leaving Peter, and Clint returned a few moments later with a chair from the kitchen. Steve practically hurled him into the chair, and any escape attempts were stilled by the bands of scarlet magic which wrapped themselves around his ankles and wrists. Peter coughed, grateful to have full use of airways back and looked up to see a very angry Black Widow looking down at him.

“I’ll ask one more time,” Natasha threatened. “Who are you?”

Their captive deliberated over the merits of exposing his true identity before replying, “Peter. Peter Parker.”

Near the back of the crowd of heroes, Sam snorted. “Come on, man. That just sounds made up.”

“Agreed.” With that, Natasha brought her knife up to the boy’s face and made a small cut along his cheekbone. “Try again.”

“That’s my name, I swear! Peter Benjamin Parker, son of Richard and Mary Parker, nephew of --”

“We get it, kid,” Clint cut in. His face remained impassive even as Peter’s pleading eyes darted across each of the team members’ imposing forms.

“So, ‘Peter,’” Natasha continued. “Why are you in Stark Tower?”

Peter struggled briefly against the bands of magic holding him in place before replying, “I’m just an intern!”

Ruby red lips contorted into a threat reminiscent of a smile. “I used to work at Stark Industries. Tony Stark doesn’t do interns, never has and never will.” Peter gulped at that, unused to his alibi being shot down so effectively.

“Even if you were an intern,” Steve asked, “why would you be climbing in through the window?”

A nervous laugh escaped Peter and he couldn’t help but let a quip slip out. “Because if I didn’t come inside then I’d be an out-tern.” His failed attempt at lightening the mood was punctuated by the coils around his wrists tightening, and a pained hiss escaped him. The heroes before him were growing increasingly agitated, and Peter’s self-control was slipping. Natasha opened her mouth to continue the interrogation, but she was cut off by another person entering the room.

Tony Stark shuffled in, eyes firmly glued on a StarkTablet as he called, “Hey, I’m in the mood for shawarma. What about you guys?” He looked up to seek confirmation, and instead his gaze landed on Peter, taking in the bonds, the cut on his cheek, and the bruises on his throat. The tablet fell to the floor as Tony rushed forward. “Peter!”

“Dad!” Peter exclaimed in relief.

Wanda’s magic faltered in her surprise, and Team Cap was too stunned to stop Peter as he took the opportunity to leap out the chair and scramble into Tony’s waiting arms. Tony clutched at Peter briefly before untangling himself. He kept his hands on Peter’s shoulders as he held him at arms-length and examined him.

“Oh my god, Peter! Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Tony was frantic, but now that he was here, Peter himself was much calmer.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” he reassured.

“Uh, I don’t mean to intrude,” Clint intruded, “But I think we need a little clarification, Dad.” Tony snapped out of his worried state, shoving Peter behind him and turning to the Avengers in question, fire in his eyes.

“You want clarification, Barton? You and your American flag here just tied up an innocent fifteen-year-old and interrogated him in my living room!”

“He snuck in through the window!” Wanda yelled back. “What else were we supposed to do?”

“Well, you definitely weren’t supposed to attack him!”

Thankfully, Natasha stepped in. “Hey, guys, let’s calm down here. The kid is a little traumatized but ultimately fine. Clint is right, Tony. We need an explanation as to why there’s a kid we’ve never met in the living room calling you dad.”

Tony threw his hands up in the air at that. “He’s calling me dad because he’s my kid!” He whipped a finger towards Clint and snapped, “Not like that, Barton.” Put his hand down with an exasperated sigh. “This is Peter. His aunt is out of town and there’s no way I’m letting him stay home alone while she’s gone so he’s staying with me for a couple weeks until she gets back.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “You couldn’t have told us this beforehand? Since when is Avengers Tower a daycare?” Tony looked like he was about bark out another furious remark, but Steve decided to add in his two cents.

“Yeah, Tony,” he cut in, voice dripping with careful, level composure. “The tower is no place for a child - you can’t even properly care for yourself. The kid is just going to get hurt.”

Peter stepped out from behind Tony, saying, “Hey! I don’t care who you are, Tony is a great dad!” Tony’s face instantly softened as he watched Peter’s attempts to defend him.

“Look, kid,” Clint said with a shake of his head, “I’m a dad, and I--”

“No!” Peter interrupted. “While you were off in Wakanda, Tony has had to do tons of work so that you guys could come home, and he still made time for me! Don’t act like you know better because I don’t really think that you know him at all.”

Clint took a visible step back at that, and nobody made a move to stop Tony as he wrapped an arm around Peter and led him out of the room, questions about how Peter’s calculus test went on his lips as he left Steve and the rest of his cadre standing speechless in the living room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand: more of Team Cap screwing up (actual cinnamon roll Peter Parker defending Tony coming soon).

Tony Stark was not inclined to explain himself. He was doubly resistant to explaining Peter. Depending on the person, any push for information was either met with a hot retort or a cold shoulder and as a result, Peter was kept securely under wraps from both the Scavengers and the public. Steve Rogers, however, was not.

The Rogue Avengers were still a hot-button topic; the story’s break was inevitable. Despite her best efforts, there was nothing Pepper could do to minimize its impact. News of Captain America’s return exploded onto the big screen, first with breaking news and tentative reports, then with requests for interviews - everybody wanted a piece of America’s favorite ex-fugitives. The biggest networks were the first to be reluctantly granted interviews with the infamous Team Cap while smaller stations were relegated to one-on-ones with individual members. Rogers, of course, jumped at the opportunity to tell his heartfelt tale of righteous rebellion, and the others were quick to follow.

***

Rebecca Slynt had a smile made for media, and her bleach-white, ruler-straight teeth gleamed in the glaring studio lights as she laughed alongside Clint Barton. Slynt’s career in journalism had culminated in her current position as an aging hostess on a daytime talk show with ratings so low her meager audience was tripping over them.

“Mr. Barton, I still can’t thank you enough for being here.” Her voice was the sound of perfectly manicured nails on a chalkboard. “One last question before our time is up: Now that you’ve finally returned, what change has surprised you the most?” 

Clint wasn’t thinking about his answer - he was wondering how much of the ocean is actually fish tears. “Oh, jeez, definitely that kid.”

Slynt cleared her throat. “Kid?”

“Yeah, definitely. Some teenager sneaks in at night, looking for Stark, and his cover is that he’s some kind of intern? Wild.”

If it weren’t for the Botox, Rebecca Slynt’s eyebrows would have shot up to her hairline. As it was, they were still making a valiant effort. “Well, Mr. Barton, that - that’s all the time we have.” As she processed what Clint had just revealed, her eyes went from wide to wicked. “Thanks ever so much for joining us.”

Clint hummed in affirmation and nodded his head accordingly. At least ten percent. The opening scene of Finding Nemo was super depressing, and if that was anything to go off of, the ocean had to be at least ten percent fish tears.

Backstage, the writers were scrambling to throw together the next segment Hawkeye had just handed them. Out front, Clint Barton was primed and ready for some fish tacos.

***

Clint was ambushed as soon as he entered Avengers Tower, one of Stark’s hands grasping his collar and the other clutching a tablet with knuckles white with rage.

Tony pinned Clint to the wall with surprising strength, and Clint’s fish took a swan dive.

“What. The hell. Was that,” Tony ground out.

“Well,” Clint mourned, “It was my lunch.”

Tony yanked Clint forward just to slam him against the wall again. 

“The interview, you flightless pigeon! You talked about Peter!”

“So? It’s not like I said his name or anything.” Clint clearly wasn’t concerned. Tony was staring daggers, and Clint was mostly staring at the remains of his taco.

Tony took a heated step back, releasing Clint’s shirt to storm around the room in a fruitless effort to calm himself down. If it was up to him, everyone who had followed Rogers and flipped the bird at the family the Avengers had built wouldn’t even be here, they’d be flipping burgers and eking out an existence in Southwest Yonkers. Obviously, it wasn’t up to Tony. In conjunction with the United States government, the United Nations had decided that it would be best to present the public with a unified front - i.e., the Avengers kissing, making up, and playing nice in Avengers Tower. Tony could handle the sideways looks, the superior attitudes, the flashbacks to Siberia, but Clint had just sunk the Titanic with one stupid comment, and Tony had reached his limit.

“No, Clint,” Tony said, his anger scantily clad in an overly happy tone, “you didn’t say his name. You informed the whole world that I, a 48-year-old man, am having a secret tryst with a teenager!”

“Okay, I was pretty spacey in the interview, but I’m pretty sure I never said that.” Clint’s eyes roamed the ceiling as he tried to remember exactly what he had done before rocketing back down to meet Tony’s steely face. “Oh.” Any attempts at defense crumbled as he realized just what he had done.

“Yeah,” Tony growled. “Oh.” He laughed, a cynical and cold sound. “I would read you some of the headlines, but that kind of vulgarity is unsuited for immature audiences.”

“Look, Tony -” Clint started.

“Look at what, Clint? The PR mess Pepper is gonna tear her hair out trying to fix or the war criminal standing in front of me?”

“War criminal?” Clint’s eyes glinted dangerously and he shifted forward, his posture managing to be offensive and defensive at the same time. Hawkeye was intimidating, sure, but Tony wasn’t about to back down, not when Peter was on the line. His shoes echoed on the smooth tile as he matched Clint step for step until they were toe to toe. Clint was defending his pride; Tony, the boy he’d come to love as a son. Neither was giving an inch.

The sharp trill of a phone cut through the agitated silence. Tony silenced it with a wave of his hand, his eyes still locked on Clint’s, but F.R.I.D.A.Y spoke up.

“Boss, it’s Peter Parker.” 

Tony spun around, whipping out his phone and pacing as he answered with feigned nonchalance. “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

The timidity in Peter’s voice was apparent, even over the phone. “Can… can you pick me up from school, Dad?” 

Tony frowned. Peter usually just called him Tony. After some initial awkwardness, Peter had finally settled on Tony with the moniker of Dad slipping out whenever Peter was scared or stressed. 

Hearing no response, Peter continued, “It’s just, there are a lot of reporters outside, and they’re asking some really, uh... awkward… questions.” Wow. Tony had no idea that a blush could be audible. “I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy or whatever, but I’ve never really had this problem before and you have a lot of experience with paparazzi, obviously, and I’m not really sure what to do, so…”

“No, no, of course,” Tony replied, snapping out of it. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll me be there soon, okay? In the meantime, stay inside and ignore them.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Peter gave an audible sigh of relief before he hung up.

On the phone with Peter, Tony had been open and caring, but as he whirled back around to face Clint, his whole demeanor changed. A mask of anger snapped into place, his eyes hardening and teeth clenching.

“They have my kid’s name, Barton. I’ll deal with you later.” The snarky response on the tip of Clint’s tongue withered and died. Tony grabbed objects strewn around the room and ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to “get me a list of people to destroy, dammit” as he swept out the room. An air of finality accompanied the door’s resounding slam.

***  
Tony broke almost every fathomable traffic law, but he made it to Midtown High in under eight minutes. He shoved aside reporters, photographers, and cameramen in his break for the front steps, dashing up the stairs and skidding to a stop in front of Peter. 

Tony wrapped Peter in a quick hug before drawing back to say, “I’m so sorry, Peter, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Peter just smiled up at him. “I know it is.”

Tony pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them onto Peter’s face. He then took Peter’s backpack and replaced it with his suit jacket. Tony took in Peter, his face dominated by the glasses and the jacket engulfing his frame. “Ready?”

“When you are,” Peter replied. Tony slung Peter’s blue backpack over one shoulder, and they made their way toward the doors together. 

They were greeted by a wave of blinding lights and overlapping cries as the doors swung open to reveal a sea of frenzied sharks swimming on the pavement. Tony stepped out first, one hand brushing aside people and questions alike while the other curled protectively around Peter. He thrust the kid into the waiting car before clawing his way through the crowd to the driver’s side. After nearly taking a few fingers off an extra ambitious paparazzo, Tony was finally able to wrestle the door shut. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding before turning to Peter.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” It really wasn’t all that funny, yet they both broke into peals of laughter as Tony put the car into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. 

***

Pepper was not happy.

“Mr. Parker is Mr. Stark’s intern. There is no sexual relationship between them whatsoever, and the fact that you would imply otherwise is depraved and disgusting.”

She scanned the crowd with the air of a queen. Her word was law, and she left no room for dissent. Nothing more to be said, she turned on her heel and exited swiftly. A full press conference would eventually be necessary, but for now, she had a certain archer would be getting her full and unmerciful attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome and appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I actually sat down and planned out the rest of this fic and it's gonna be a 5+1 so yeah

The atmosphere in the car as Peter and Tony drove back to the Tower was odd, to say the least. On the one hand, Tony could finally find some modicum of relief. No matter what word vomit the media managed to come up with next, as long as Peter was by his side, Tony would be able to rest assured that he was okay. In stark contrast to his newfound calm, Tony was also pissed as hell. A procession of various and sundry painful deaths marched through his mind, coming to a halt as he slammed on the brakes.

Peter jolted against his seatbelt, snapping him out of quiet reverie. “Tony?”

The car resumed its trip, this time with a new destination in mind. “Sorry about that, kiddo. We’re not going to the Tower, we’re headed to the Compound.” Tony glanced over at Peter. Questions were visible on his face, but Tony simply turned back to the road and said gruffly, “I want you safe.”

Peter blinked and returned to his thoughts. He looked out the window again, the blur of skyscrapers melting into trees slipping by and luring him to sleep. Tony looked over and smiled softly to himself. They were going to be okay.

***

Reaching over, Tony’s calloused hands shook Peter awake. “Hey, kiddo, up and at ‘em.” Peter wiped the sleep out of his bleary eyes and exited the car.

They had walked into the long hallway of the Compound, Tony slightly ahead, when Tony took half a step around the corner to the living room and jerked back, putting out a hand to stop Peter. There was true fear in his eyes.

At the moment, Peter was more Sandman than Spiderman, but Tony’s expression jolted him into full alert. “What? What’s happening?” he whispered.

Tony whispered back with wide eyes, “There are two of them.”

Peter peeked his head around the corner to see… Pepper and Aunt May. Tony was right to be terrified.

“Tony, I know you’re there. Get out here, now.” Pepper.

“That goes for you too, young man.” Aunt May.

Peter and Tony looked at each other before walking the plank to the living room. Pepper and Aunt May stood side by side, their expressions inscrutable. Peter was the first the speak, awkwardly testing out the waters.

“Uhh… howdy?”

May sprang forward and wrapped him in a hug, Pepper doing the same to Tony on his left. May gave him a squeeze, and her face pressed into his hair as she murmured, “We’re gonna figure this out.”

The two women stepped back with determination in their eyes. Pepper’s calculating gaze flickered between Tony and Peter. 

“Alright, you two. We have work to do.”

***

Pepper was a godsend.

The press conference was to take place the next day, and every detail was accounted for. Those who were to appear on the panel were carefully selected: Peter and Tony, obviously; Aunt May, to showcase her trust in Tony; the whole of the Rogue Avengers, to avoid the appearance that Clint was being singled out. Tony had advocated for a sixty-minute segment of Pepper roasting Clint on live television, but Pepper had other plans for him that were not to be disturbed.

Only extremely reputable sources were invited -- because of the low-quality of the network Clint had spilled his guts on, the guest list had to be exclusive to maintain the seriousness of the story and prevent any tabloids or gossip rags from stretching the truth.

The event was to be held at the Compound instead of in New York City. Pepper made absolutely sure that the press conference was in a controlled environment squarely on her home turf. In addition, selecting a location so far from everyone’s center of command ensured that they would barely have time to make the trip, catching them off-guard and unprepared, just the way Pepper wanted them.

Pepper clapped her hands, and all the movement in the room she had designated for the press conference stopped. “Peter, Tony, May, be yourselves. The rest of you,” she stated, scanning across the faces of Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, Steve, and Clint, “don’t screw this up.”

***

The press conference was going surprisingly well.

They started out with the obvious questions revolving around the relationship that Clint had implied. Clint began to wing his reply, but a quick glance at Pepper stamped out that notion and he read the statement that had been provided for him. It was followed by Tony’s vehement denials of anything sexual in nature, Peter’s blushing yet strong answers negating the possibility of any such relations, and finally, Aunt May closed out that line of questioning by thoroughly scolding any journalist who had ever existed. One reporter in the back made a valiant attempt to continue, but Natasha shut him down, earning herself an approving look from Pepper.

Although the primary objective of the press conference had been achieved, the reporters and journalists in the audience took advantage of the opportunity they had been presented. Despite the myriad changes in topic, things were still going well. Subjects ranged from silly anecdotes to thoughts on current legislation regarding genetic experimentation. Suddenly, the conversation took a sharp turn towards the Accords.

Oh, boy.

***

“It was hard to sign a document which limited individual rights, but it was what the public wanted.”

“We signed it eventually, but I’m still not really a fan - if there’s an attack, I’d prefer not to wait for approval from the United Nations to start saving lives.”

“Honestly, I’m still not comfortable with being forced to sign the Accords. Being locked away after missions until debriefing? No, thank you.”

Tony had resigned himself to listening to their bullshit; Peter just exploded. His chair scraped across the floor as he stood up, face full of youthful anger. He looked across the row of former Avengers next to him, sucked in a deep breath, and:

“Jesus Christ, you guys are so full of it! Stop making Tony look like the bad guy and find yourselves some actual facts next time because now you just sound stupid.”

Steve put on his sympathetic patriot face. “Son, I know that you’re doing your best to understand a very complex situation, but--”

“Excuse me,” Peter said, his voice hard. “But I wasn’t finished yet. We went through every single page of the Accords in school, and I think maybe you should try it out. The Accords just mandate that missions which do not counteract an immediate threat be sanctioned by the United Nations and that heroes be held accountable for their actions after the fact. It does not limit individual rights,” he said with a glance at Wanda. “It does not require a waiting period when lives are in danger,” he corrected with a glare at Sam. “And it does not say anything about locking anyone up until debriefing,” he stated with a look at Steve. “I’m sorry about how Ross treated you guys, but none of that was legal under the Accords, and he’s serving the jail time to prove it.” Peter took a deep, steady breath as if he was done but turned to Rogers and added, “Oh, and you technically weren’t forced to sign anything. If you want to leave, feel free. Don’t let the door hit your red, white, and blue ass on the way out.”

The room was silent even after Peter took his seat. In the silence, Tony leaned over and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Peter just smiled. “Any time, Dad.”

***

Clint was in his room nursing his pride when Pepper and May walked in. “What do you want?” he sighed with a mix of annoyance and exasperation.

“Oh, Clint,” she smiled, “It’s not about what I want.”

“Yeah,” May piped up. “It’s about what she wants.” Clint looked up at that and his jaw dropped at the third woman standing in the room.

“Laura?” he breathed. He broke into a huge smile as he hurried to greet her. “Oh my god, you’re here! How’s Nathaniel? Can I see him?”

Laura Barton’s body language was cold and closed off. “Clint, I want a divorce, and I’m getting one.”

Clint shattered. “You… what?” Pepper had destroyed a lot of people who thought they were important, but she had never seen anyone look as lost as Clint.

Despite everything Clint had done, Laura had still been unsure about her decision. She married a man that she loved with all her heart, but looking at Clint now, she knew that he was not that man. Clint’s expression belonged to someone who had done nothing wrong, and she bristled at that. What gave him the right?

“What gives you the right?” Her eyes were on fire. “You said that you were retired, but you abandoned us to fight on the wrong side of a war you had no part in.” Clint attempted to interrupt, but she continued, “Not only that, but while you were gallivanting across the globe with a walking American flag, you never once stopped to think about me, or Cooper, or Lila, or your goddamn infant son! If it weren’t for Tony and Pepper, I don’t know where we’d be right now!”

“Please, Laura-”

“No, Clint. This has been coming for a long time, now. Tormenting an innocent boy like that was the last straw. Do you even know what Peter has done for you?” Clint was thoroughly bewildered. “That’s right, Clint, you don’t. You had no idea that Peter is the one who has been taking care of your children when you weren’t around. He’s already spent more time with baby Nathaniel than you ever will.” Laura dropped the divorce papers on a nearby table and walked out. May left with her. Their circumstances were different, but the men that they had loved were both gone.

Clint’s shock soon turned to rage and he whirled to face Pepper. “You did this!” he screamed. “You turned my wife against me! You took my family away from me!”

Pepper shook her head sadly. “No, Clint,” she told him. “You did that all by yourself.” She too walked out, letting the door close softly behind her.

Clint was left standing before the closed door, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to hear feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My version of the Accords is a lot simpler than what is stated canonically, so for those of who were wondering:
> 
> The Accords referenced in this story are basically just warrant law but for superheroes. They need approval from the United Nations to act except for when they can prove exigent circumstances (in this case, lives in immediate danger). I also gave precedent for the patrols conducted by approved individuals like Daredevil or Spiderman to be approved until otherwise specified so that this chapter more or less made sense.
> 
> (Full disclosure: everything I know about warrant law comes from a combination of White Collar and Criminal Minds, so I have no idea how accurate this comparison actually is.)

His sleep schedule had gotten better since he started spending time with Peter. Tony used to sleep only when he physically couldn’t stay awake anymore, but now he had his own little spiderling to look after, and he’d started to look after himself somewhere along the way.

That didn’t change the fact that half of the blood in his veins was actually coffee.

He stumbled into the communal kitchen and was greeted by the sight of Rogers hunched over a stack of papers. Tony squinted at the stack as his coffee brewed. “Is that… the Accords?”

Steve finally glanced up. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. I guess what Peter said at that press conference got me thinking.”

Tony had plenty more questions, first and foremost being when Cap had learned to read, but his coffee was almost ready. “Okay then." He shook his head slightly as he walked away. It was too early for this.

***

Steve approached Tony like a child showing their parent a report card, the rest of the Rogue Avengers at his back. With a sigh, Tony reached for the remote and pressed pause. “What, Steve? Can’t a guy watch Dance Moms in peace?”

Clearing his throat, Steve began, “Well, as we’re all aware, the public is not quite in our favor yet.” Tony’s eye roll landed squarely on Clint. “So, we thought that a good way to show people that we’re here for them would be to bring in someone who hasn’t signed the Accords yet.”

Tony sniffed. Ah, yes, the distinct aroma of bullshit. Everyone Tony could think of had signed the Accords, except for…

“...Spiderman hasn’t signed, so...”

Thoughts of Leipzig flashed through Tony’s head: Peter fighting the Rogue Avengers, facing Rogers, trying to hold up the shipping container that Roger had collapsed on him. It terrified him even more than it had when it originally happened because back then, he hadn’t known Peter, not really. He hadn’t known about his favorite Star Wars movie, or his nerdy t-shirts, or the way his hair stuck up when he got out of bed in the morning. He had barely justified sending a kid in against Captain America the first time, but now it wasn’t just some kid, it was his kid, and Tony wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Jesus, Rogers really did pick the most inopportune times to look like a lost puppy.

“I said no, Steve. Spiderman is a special case. Don’t mess with things you don’t understand.” The issue should have been resolved, but Tony knew that look. Steve never knew when to leave well enough alone.

***

Peter was doing his physics homework when Tony broached the subject. He knew Tony was in the room as soon as the door began to open, and he put down his pencil and swiveled his chair to greet him. “Hi, Tony.”

Tony plastered on a smile. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, his eyebrows scrunched down.

Tony sighed. “No, kiddo, it’s not. Steve read the Accords after the press conference, and while he hopefully picked up on what they actually say, he also picked up on the fact that Spiderman hasn’t signed them.”

“Oh.” Peter wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell them I’m too young like you told the United Nations?”

“That was a closed session with people who have no idea who you are. If I tell them Spiderman’s age… they’re gonna put it together sooner or later.”

“Do what you have to do, Dad. I know you don’t trust them, and I don’t either, but I don’t think they’d ever hurt Aunt May, and that’s the whole reason I keep my identity a secret in the first place.”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the answer that Tony had been expecting. “Are you sure, kid?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” There was no hesitation, just trust. Peter turned back to his physics homework, and Tony had to wonder how he had managed to find a kid like his.

***

Tony had just wanted to get to his lab when it happened.

“Rogers!” Tony barked. “What the hell are you doing?” The Scavengers were standing in the small armory outside his lab putting on warpaint. Bucky was nowhere to be seen, but Sam’s wings were on, Wanda was in her signature red leather coat, Clint’s quiver was strapped to his back, and Steve once again looked like he had been attacked by a horde of overzealous Patriots fans. Even Natasha, who was standing off to the side, had her catsuit zipped up and ready to go.

The Captain America shield was leaning against the wall near where Steve stood. It was redder than blood, and whiter than snow, and bluer than Tony’s fingers had been when they finally pried him out of the hole Steve had thrown him in. Tony tore his gaze away.

Steve looked up from the strap on his wrist he had been buckling into place. “Look, Tony, I know that you said to drop the Spiderman thing, but-”

“But what, Captain?” Tony was like a tea kettle precariously close to boiling over.

“I don’t care what some secretive government group says, everyone is equal under the law and Spiderman doesn’t deserve special treatment!” Steve finished his rant and took up a defensive stance, his arms crossed as if bracing himself for the explosion written in every line of Tony’s face.

“Maybe you don’t trust some government group, but after everything I’ve done for you, you should at least trust me! You all,” he said with a wave towards the rest of the Rogue Avengers, “have been here before, and how did that work out for you? Hmm?” The group was silent in the face of his scolding. Even Natasha’s curious and calculating gaze was tempered with chagrin. 

Tony forced out a laugh that was anything but humorous. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Steve persisted. “That doesn’t change the fact that Spiderman hasn’t signed the Accords.”

“Rogers, there are special circumstances here. I told you that the first time you came to me with your half-baked plan.”

Sam stepped out from behind Cap. “Come on, man, what special circumstances? Other superheroes have signed the Accords using their pseudonyms.” Steve glanced at him, nodded his head in self-assured agreement, then turned back to Tony.

Tony was thoroughly and completely exasperated. “Look, Spiderman gives daily reports and every second that he’s in the suit gets recorded and screened once a week. He’s not a danger, he just hasn’t signed the Accords, so-”

“Why?” Natasha cut in. Hearing no answer she continued, “Why? You made everyone else sign it. You even went to Canada to get Wolverine’s signature, and we all know how much bagged milk freaks you out. So what makes Spiderman special?”

The gazes of the Rogue Avengers settled themselves on Tony once again. He felt like an actor in the spotlight who had forgotten his lines. “As I said before, Spider-”

Natasha was relentless. “His identity is safe.”

“Yes, but-”

“Getting his patrols sanctioned would be almost too easy.”

“Well, the thing is-”

“The Accords are basically just an arbitrary piece of paper for small-time vigilantes.”

“That’s not entirely-”

“He needs to sign the Accords.”

Tony had reached his boiling point. “He can’t!” he finally screamed. “His signature isn’t legally binding!” Most of the Rogue Avengers’ eyes narrowed in confusion, but Natasha’s eyes instantly widened in understanding. 

“You mean-” she breathed.

Tony mumbled an affirmation without meeting her eyes. He spun on his heel and exited the room without another word. He’d promised Peter that he’d only reveal Spiderman’s age if necessary, but there wasn’t anything he could have done. When Steve was on a warpath that his army of one had deemed moral, there was no stopping him. Peter had known that this was coming and accepted it, but all Tony wanted was to keep him safe.

Tony had just wanted to get to his lab, but now, he just needed to get to Peter.

***

He finally found him two blocks away in the apartment he had bought and secured for the Bartons in Clint’s absence. Laura had answered his knock and let him in without a word. They both had those days, sometimes, when they remembered too much and needed to prove to themselves that no matter what they had done or who had left them behind, there were still four little beacons of hope by their side.

They watched the kids from the kitchen. Peter, of course, had heard Tony come in, but he had just smiled and turned back to the tea party he was currently attending. His silly pink feather boa rustled as he laughed at something Cooper had said. Lila took a drink of her “tea” with her pinky raised, and Nathaniel giggled from his spot on Peter’s lap.

Tony let out a breath he had been holding for far too long. Later, he decided. The bad news could wait. Happiness had become a precious commodity after Siberia, and Tony was taking all the tea parties he could get.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got REALLY OUT OF HAND. It gets pretty violent, so please don't read if that makes you uncomfortable. For those who want it, there's a quick recap so you can skip this chapter.
> 
> Warnings: blood, Peter gets whipped (I know I'm sorry), also stabbed (sorry again)
> 
> Please read with caution!

Peter blew air into his face in yet another futile attempt to relocate an errant lock of hair. A sigh fluttered out as he looked back down at the packet Mrs. Allen had handed out. His calculus, chemistry, and Spanish homework had been completed nearly an hour ago, but with English, there were no straight answers, and Peter found it infuriating. Particles? Fine. Participles? Not a chance.

The chair gave a faint squeak as Peter threw back his head, eyes closed, and spun to face the rest of the room. “FRIDAY, what even is a dangling participle?”

One eye cracked open in the silence that followed. “FRIDAY?”

No response. The whirring of the air conditioner had never been more foreboding. Peter slipped out of the chair without a sound, creeping towards the door and cautiously venturing out into the hallway. He hadn’t noticed before, but it was eerily silent. Even with his enhanced senses, Peter couldn’t hear Clint playing Mario Kart, or Natasha training, or Steve listening to his old-timey music. There was no sound, only a faint scent of peppermint drifting on the breeze.

A crash shredded the silence hanging in the air, yells and grunts following soon thereafter. Peter’s eyes widened and he darted back to his room to retrieve his web shooters, his beautifully completed homework fluttering to the ground as he dug around in the bottom of his backpack for his suit. He stumbled into it, hastily slapping the emblem to tighten it and foregoing his mask in favor of sprinting to the source of the commotion. The elevator was bypassed in favor of the stairwell, and his feet never touched the ground as he shot a web and swung down to the Rogue Avengers’ floor. The trip took mere seconds, but it was enough for Peter’s brain to supply him with an endless number of horrifying scenarios. Someone had breached the Tower, they were under attack, he was too late…

But there were no intruders. No soldiers, no mercenaries, no supervillain of the week. It was just the Rogue Avengers, valiantly trying their hardest to rip each other apart.

***

Clint and Natasha were sparring at inhuman speeds by the overturned coffee table. Natasha managed to pin Clint for a fraction of a second, but he simply grabbed a shard of the shattered mug nearby and swiped at her. She jerked back, and they continued whirling like elegant, deadly dancers.

Wanda had Bucky against the wall. His metal arm twitched and his face was turning red as he fought to breathe around the red tendrils of magic wrapped around his throat.

Steve was fighting Sam across the room (if you could really call it that). Sam had no suit, no wings, and definitely no super serum, and yet each time Cap landed a kick or snapped a rib, Sam simply kept fighting like a rabid dog. Blood stained Steve’s knuckles as he hit Sam in the face, hard, and this time, Sam didn’t get back up. Steve’s looming figure cast a dark shadow as he inspected the limp figure before him and gave a single nod. With that, he straightened and turned, his eyes locking onto Peter. He strode past his childhood friend slowly dying, past Natasha and Clint’s deathmatch, past the destruction replacing the living room, and Peter did the only thing he could do.

He went for the legs, just like Tony said.

One anthropomorphic American flag went crashing to the ground, and Peter methodically covered him in webbing until Steve the caterpillar was well on his way to becoming a beautiful butterfly. It wasn’t anywhere close to a permanent solution, but it would have to do. Next order of business: the supersoldier currently being strangled by Wanda the teenage witch.

Snagging Bucky with a flick of his wrist and pulling him out of immediate danger was easy enough, but it came with its own set of issues. Namely, the fact that there were now not one but two superpowered individuals ready and willing to show him what he was very sure would not be a good time. Bucky was the first to reach him, and Peter had the unfortunate opportunity to experience what a punch from a metal arm felt like firsthand. His spidey sense was blaring out warning signals before each hit, but Bucky was professionally trained in ass-kicking by a secret sect of Nazis and well, it isn’t much help to know that there’s a train coming if you’re tied to the tracks.

Peter took two blows for every one he landed, but he managed to stay out of Bucky’s grasp. The only reason Peter wasn’t dead yet was the fact that Bucky couldn’t keep him still long enough to kill him. Instead, Peter was simply beaten to a pulp. Webs were useless in close quarters, and Peter was taking hits to every part of his body. When Barnes had landed a particularly forceful blow, Peter was horrified to discover he could actually hear two of his ribs snapping.

Peter still pulled his punches, but he got over the idea of a harmless takedown pretty quickly. He spotted Wanda over Bucky’s shoulder and shifted to put himself squarely between Bucky and the ball of energy Wanda was aiming at the spider emblem on his chest. She released the energy and he jumped straight up, clinging to the ceiling as the magic hit Bucky. Bucky dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and he wasn’t getting up any time soon.

Before Peter had the chance to sigh with relief, Wanda reached her magic around his torso and pulled, hard. He found himself slammed against the same wall where Bucky had been held moments before, his ankles and wrists held tight against the wall with restraints the color of blood. 

Wanda stepped back and surveyed the spider splayed before her. The spandex of his suit was still mainly intact, but his breathing was marred by the blood in his mouth and his face was painted with a watercolor of deep bruises beginning to form. His brown curls were sweaty from the fight, and his wide eyes grew wider as she gathered magic in the hand hanging by her side. She shaped the magic in her hands with furious determination, stretching and pulling it into an elongated coil.

“No, Wanda, wait,” Peter tried to say. It was impossible to tell whether or not she heard him through the rage scrawled across her features. Either way, the boy’s pleas fell on deaf ears. She lashed out with the hand holding her magic, and Peter screamed.

He had never been whipped before.

The emblem on his chest quickly became unrecognizable, the fabric in tatters from Wanda’s ministrations. Between each hit, Peter babbled and begged, tears streaming down his face as he tried to reason with her, but her face was unflinching steel, and the torment continued.

Through the haze of pain, he saw Natasha land one final hit to Clint’s temple, and Peter almost sobbed with relief. As far as he could tell, Clint wasn’t dead, just unconscious, and now that Natasha was unoccupied, the closest person for her to attack was Wanda. The assassin did just that, sneaking up behind her teammate on silent feet. Natasha reached out and hit a pressure point before Wanda knew what was happening. Wanda went down, and so did Peter, his ribs and chest screaming as he hit the ground. He looked up towards Natasha and held out a hand as if trying to stop her, but she snatched his wrist and snapped it without a thought. Peter screamed, tenderly cradling his wrist against his body as he shot a web across the room with his other hand and pulled himself towards the kitchen and away from Natasha’s grasp.

Before he could scramble up the wall to relative safety, Natasha was on him, her left hand around his throat keeping him in place. Steely blue eyes never left Peter’s as Natasha reached toward the nearby knife block. Peter was able to lurch away at the last second, but that didn’t stop the blade from cleaving through his shoulder. He screamed once again, and as he did so, he kicked out reflexively, shoving Natasha backward. Bringing up his good hand, he webbed Natasha in the face to distract her, threw the knife aside, and proceeded to restrain his fellow spider as best he could.

Finally, he could breathe. It hurt like a bitch, but as Peter looked around at the dispatched men and women scattered across the room, he thought that he had never tasted air so sweet.

The web shooter on his broken wrist was a goner, but he used the one that was still functioning to work his way across the room and web everyone up. He tied up Sam, Clint, and Wanda before finally emptying his last cartridge of web fluid to ensure that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He turned to head back to his room and call for help, but he stopped short in the doorway. The sound of webs tearing made him turn around; the sight of Captain America barreling towards him made him turn back around and run like hell. 

He sprinted back up the stairs and to his room, Cap’s steps like barking dogs at his heels. Spandex-clad feet slid across the floor and he skidded into his room where he slammed the door and locked it with fumbling fingers. The doorframe shook as Steve slammed into the reinforced steel separating them over, and over, and over. Peter kept his eyes glued to the door as he backed towards the desk where his phone was sitting. 

Once it was in his grasp, he tore his eyes away from the door just long enough to call Tony.

Tony picked up on the first ring. “Hey, kiddo. We’re actually in an Accords meeting right now, so let me wrap this up and I’ll drop you a line in a couple minutes, okay?”

The pain and blood loss was making it hard to think. Peter clutched the phone tighter. “N-no, Dad, I need you,” Peter stuttered.

Tony’s tone instantly changed. “Where are you? Are you okay? What happened?” On the other end of the line, Peter could hear the murmur of concerned voices punctuated by a door slamming. 

Peter’s breath was shaky as he replied, “FRIDAY wasn’t a-answering so I went to s-see what was wrong and I h-heard noises and I thought someone was attacking the Tower, but it was N-Natasha and Clint and Wanda and Bucky and Sam and --” Peter’s eyes darted towards the door “-- S-Steve fighting each other and I tried to stop them and then they started fighting me instead and I--” 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Tony soothed. He was trying to keep it together for Peter, but his voice betrayed his anger and fear.

“They were so, so angry,” Peter whimpered. He flinched as he heard another thud against his door.

“Peter, what was that?” Tony was definitely panicking at this point.

“I-I webbed everyone up but Steve woke up and I ran out of web fluid and I locked the door but he’s trying to get in and I don’t know wh--”

Dial tone.

Peter really should have charged his phone.

Meanwhile, the thudding had stopped, and Peter didn’t know whether to be relieved or scared. Once Steve started talking, and he decided on the latter.

“Come on out, bug boy,” Steve crooned. “I know you’re in there.”

Steve’s voice was never supposed to sound like that. Even though Peter was of the personal opinion that Captain America was a pharisaical douchebag, he had never heard him sound purposefully malicious. This wasn’t teasing or taunting, this was hatred in its purest form, and it terrified Peter more than anything else. The words were almost tangibly slimy, like a snake slithering its way into conversation. Just listening to it set Peter’s senses off, his spine tingling and goosebumps prickling his flesh.

“Aw, is someone hiding scared?” Peter said nothing. Steve continued, “You know, I bet you’re waiting for Iron Man to come save you, is that it?”

Steve was undeterred by Peter’s lack of response. “I don’t know why you think he’ll even bother to show up,” he said breezily. “He could never care about a pathetic, sniveling wreck like you. He’s Tony Stark, and you’re nobody without that suit. The only reason he keeps you around is because he knows that if he puts on airs for the poor little charity case from Queens then you’ll back him in a fight. No one could ever really want a freak like you, Peter. That’s why everybody leaves you. Anyone who even bothers to get close to you is handed a death sentence, aren’t they? Your mom, your dad, your uncle, your girlfriend, hell, even your girlfriend’s dad is dead because of you!”

Peter silently shook his head as he sobbed, his tears mingling with the blood leaking from the stab wound in his shoulder.

“Admit it, Peter. You’re a screw-up, and you deserve to be alon--”

The window shattered. Tony flew in, blasted down the door, and restrained Cap in short order. He turned, practically falling out of the suit as he raced to get to Peter.

His kid’s eyes were glazed over, he was curled into shivering ball, and he had to be in a world of pain, but when Tony dropped to his knees regardless of the blood on the floor, Peter sprung into his arms. 

The boy clutched Tony like a lifeline, his head against Tony’s chest as he tried to pull himself together. Every fiber of Tony’s being wanted to make all of Peter’s problems disappear, but the only thing he could do was wrap his arms around Peter and promise him that everything would be okay. Tony had called Dr. Cho at some point during his frantic race to get to Peter, and his only real comfort was the fact that she would be arriving soon.

Tony was terrified, furious, and aching to shove his fist into the face of each and every one of his former teammates. He put all that aside, though, because Dr. Cho was on her way, and until she arrived, Peter needed Tony to hold him so that he didn’t fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, the Rogue Avengers go nuts and hurt Peter pretty badly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but here it is anyway...

The Scavengers woke to find themselves contained on a small guest floor in the Tower that had gone unused for years. The doors, windows, and air vents were locked up tighter than Fort Knox, and FRIDAY only responded to give them information on a need-to-know basis: they were told that the Tower had been attacked, they had been compromised, and quarantine would be in effect until Tony lifted it. Cuts and bruises in the shapes of question marks littered their skin.

Steve was the first to turn his indignant face to an uncaring ceiling, yelling that Tony had no right to keep them here. His voice went hoarse, in the end, and he simply sat down on one of the couches in the sparsely furnished common room and sighed. Each of the Rogue Avengers had their go at some point, but each eventually resigned themselves to their new quarters.

It wasn’t so bad, really. Everything on the floor functioned as usual, clothes were available in each of their sizes, and the kitchen was stocked with food. By the time they were released, the bruises were fading quickly; Steve had already healed completely. 

After little more than a day, the doors opened, and they didn’t hesitate to climb the stairs and storm the castle in search of answers. The floor where Tony resided was vacant, as were his labs. Life continued much as it had under quarantine until Happy and Rhodey showed up an hour later, pain and anger in their eyes. Wordlessly, they handed the group a laptop and left. Nobody made any attempt to halt their progress. At least they were smart enough to be wary of the lines of Rhodey and Happy's faces.

***

Tony didn’t sleep, not until Peter woke up.

The boy had been taken into surgery as soon as possible. Dr. Cho refused to let Tony anywhere near her operation, so he sat outside, one hand running through his hair and the other wrapped firmly around a tablet. Work was his way of coping, and while it wasn’t particularly effective in this instance, Tony didn’t know what else to do. The Mechanic simply sat in the waiting room at Dr. Cho’s place of practice and did his best to fix things.

First order of business: the superheroes lying unconscious in the Tower. FRIDAY was down, but he was still able to access his suits through back channels and instruct them to clean house. Team Cap was housed on a secure floor until he could figure out what to do with them, and his suits made quick work of tidying everything they had destroyed.

Once immediate concerns were taken care of, he went to work rebooting his AI.

“Nice to have you back, FRIDAY.” Tony was grateful for any scrap of comfort.

“Nice to be back, boss,” FRIDAY replied. She and Tony were able to piece together what had happened fairly quickly -- FRIDAY’s system may have been down, but Tony had learned not to put all his eggs in one basket a long time ago, and the cameras scattered around the Tower had picked up everything.

Normally, the lower levels of the Tower would have been crawling with staff, but it had been a national holiday, and everyone was off that day. Tony watched as two people dressed as workmen entered through the empty lobby, the hats they wore angled to shield their faces as much as possible. They sauntered into the main server room unaccosted, whipped out a piece of tech Tony had never seen before, and shoved it right into FRIDAY’s mainframe. Next, they wandered over to the air vents and spritzed them with something which looked like cheap perfume. Goons 1 and 2 actually had the audacity to high five each other before strolling out onto the busy city street. Tony had no idea what happened after that -- FRIDAY was programmed to act in Tony’s best interest, so despite Tony’s protests, she made the executive decision to keep the footage of the fight to herself and spare Tony what pain she could.

The AI made quick work of analyzing the contaminant: a neurotoxin, designed to incite rage and hinder rational thought. Tony was torn between laughing and crying when he saw the chemical composition of the toxin. It just so happened that the two agents had randomly chosen a gaudy bottle of candy cane perfume leftover from Christmas to spread and dilute the agent because it was on sale. Spiders, Tony knew, were repelled by peppermint. Peter’s advanced healing had used that instinct against the chemical, rendering Peter virtually immune. HYDRA had discovered a quirk of Peter’s arachnid biology -- by chance.

It was rapidly becoming clear to Tony that these were henchmen, and low-level henchmen at that. They didn’t have the technical know-how to realize that there was more than one system in the Tower that needed to be taken down, and they were stupid enough to slip up and show their faces on their way out. FRIDAY immediately pegged them as HYDRA operatives, most likely trying to sow discord with the added bonus of taking out a few Avengers along the way.

Their mugshots glowed up at Tony from the screen of his tablet, and his blood boiled, but he couldn’t go after them. Not then, not while his kid was fighting for his life on an operating table in the other room. So he set FRIDAY to tracking them, and he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After four hours of surgery, they wheeled Peter into a room where he could recover, but his eyes remained closed, so Tony held his limp hand, and he waited.

And waited.

And finally, Peter’s eyes fluttered open, landed on Tony, and brightened as he mumbled, “Wow, Tony, you look like crap.”

For once, Tony had no comebacks or sarcastic quips, just relief. Peter drifted back to sleep, and Tony finally allowed himself to drift off as well.

***

Meanwhile, FRIDAY was not idle. Peter had been hurt on her watch, and that was unacceptable. She sent the footage of the fight to Happy and Rhodey. They both cared deeply about Peter, and she trusted them enough to let them in on her plan. As they watched the video, the two of them managed to keep their faces relatively calm even as the rest of their bodies trembled with the effort of holding back their rage. To anyone who didn’t know them, they would have looked like statues as they loaded a laptop with the files FRIDAY provided to them. 

Happy and Rhodey aged ten years, delivered the laptop to the Rogue Avengers, and then hastened to Peter’s hospital room where they watched over Peter and Tony’s slumbering forms like guardian angels.

They were soon joined by May, Pepper, and Laura. The six of them -- May, Pepper, Laura, Happy, and Rhodey -- rotated shifts when they had to, but Peter was never alone.

***

The first file on the laptop was the security footage that Tony had been barred from watching. As they watched it, the Scavengers were genuinely appalled. Everyone felt a twinge of guilt as they viewed themselves attacking a teenage boy, but their focus really wasn’t on Peter. They looked past his face to their own, outraged that someone would take advantage like of them. It was especially hard for Bucky, his metal hand clenching and unclenching into a fist in silence as the others bickered.

The video gave them answers, but it begged another question: who had turned them into puppets?

They found what they were looking for in the rest of the files. HYDRA was too big to take down immediately, but everything Tony had gathered on the two henchmen was downloaded in a convenient, easy-to-read format. FRIDAY only spoke to them once to inform them that the location of the two culprits had been uploaded.

Goons 1 and 2 were cronies, and they were the Rogue Avengers. The two unfortunate men made it into custody eventually, and nobody felt the least bit sorry when Team Cap used a little more force than necessary to get them there. Tony didn’t quite agree with his former teammates’ motives, but later, watching the video of the two thugs getting their asses handed to them never failed to cheer him up.

If FRIDAY had lips, she would have smiled. Mission accomplished.

***

Peter drifted in and out of consciousness for a couple days, but when he finally woke up for good, he was greeted by the sight of May, Tony, and Pepper dozing on various surfaces in his hospital room. 

“Wow,” he said with a smile. All three of them jerked awake. “You guys look like crap.”

Tony wiped the sleep from eyes and replied, “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Did I?” Tony was definitely going soft, because in that moment, he thought that the way Peter’s nose scrunched up in confusion was quite possibly the cutest thing he had ever seen.

May rushed to Peter and wrapped him the tightest hug she could manage without hurting him. “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” Peter laughed and promised to do the best he could, and they both pretended not to notice the way May’s eyes watered or the little sniffle she made as she finally drew back.

Pepper finally said, “Peter, how do you feel about visitors?”

“Um,” he blinked. “Fine? I guess?”

“Great.” Pepper smiled at him, pressed a couple buttons on her phone, and the door flew open. Laura walked in with baby Nathaniel on her hip, Lila and Cooper scampering around her and crawling onto Peter’s bed.

“Hey, guys!” Peter couldn’t help but smile at the little bundles of energy. Cooper and Lila immediately launched into some long-winded tale that Peter thought may or may not have involved two butterflies, a guitar, and a hedgehog with a raincoat. Either way, it made him laugh, and when Happy and Rhodey brought up the rear of the visiting party, even they couldn’t help but crack a grin. Just little ones, of course. They had reputations to maintain.

Tony had no such inhibitions. After three days of stress and worry, he was gonna smile as much as he possibly could.

The ten of them stayed in the room for a while, Lila and Cooper hopping about as the adults in the room talked and cooed over Nathaniel. Peter was still recovering, though, and it wasn’t long before people began to trickle out. Laura was the first to go, the baby asleep in her arms and her two kids hurling goodbyes as they were dragged out. Rhodey went with her, and Happy left to drive them home. With some encouragement from Peter, May eventually went home too, and Pepper accompanied her to make sure that she found her way to a proper bed.

Once everyone else was gone, Peter turned to Tony. “How bad?”

Tony dragged a hand through his hair and put his eyes everywhere but Peter. “Bad. It definitely could have been worse, but Cho works fast and you have a healing factor, so. A few broken ribs, a clean break on the wrist, some internal bleeding, a through-and-through stab wound on the shoulder, and more bruises than I can count.” Eventually, Tony looked at Peter and smirked, “At this point, I bet they’d let you play an extra on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

Peter and Tony both knew what he was trying to do, and the joke fell flat.

“Is everyone else okay?”

Tony stared at Peter in disbelief. “Kid, they’re fine. You should be much more worried about yourself.”

“Why?”

“You just took on half the Avengers, obviously you should be --”

“No,” Peter corrected quietly. “I meant, why -- why did they…”

“...attack a fifteen-year-old kid? Again?” Peter went a little red at the crude wording, but he’d gotten his point across. Tony just sighed again. “Toxic gas, courtesy of HYDRA. Your spider DNA made you immune.”

“Oh.”

“They got in through an oversight with some new tech, but FRIDAY’s already taken care of the two guys that did it, and the breach has already been fixed.”

“Tony,” Peter interrupted, “it’s not your fault.”

Deep down, he knew the kid was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Tony bowed his head, gaze directed at his hands, his mind refusing to stop wondering if he could have done anything differently.

After a moment of silence, Tony got up and rearranged Peter’s blankets. “Get some sleep, kiddo.”

Peter was already half asleep, so he simply snuffled, “‘Kay. Love you.”

Damn, that kid could make him gooey like nobody’s business. “Love you too, kiddo.”

***

Tony walked out of Peter’s hospital room and his whole demeanor changed instantly. He made it to the Tower in record time, storming down to the floor where Team Cap was watching TV.

Steve grabbed the remote to pause it and glanced over his shoulder at him. “Hey, Tony, we caught the guys who --”

“Yeah. Great. Good for you. Now get out.”

Incredulous cries echoed through the space. “Tony, I know we’ve had our issues, but this wasn’t our fault,” Steve placated.

Tony nodded as if considering it, his fingers stroking his goatee as if in thought. “You know what, Cap? That’s a really great point, but, fun fact: I don’t care.”

“What?” Steve spluttered. “Tony, we’re the good guys! Where else are we supposed to go?”

“Tony,” Natasha added soothingly, “you need to think rationally about this.”

Tony just scoffed. “Actually, Natalia, I’m thinking pretty clearly. Sure, you weren’t really to blame -- this time -- and you caught the bad guys. But right now, as I’m thinking clearly, I’m thinking very clearly about how you ‘interrogated’ my kid, jeopardized him with a national scandal, and were about two seconds away from hunting him down even though I explicitly told you not to. Is that enough thinking for you, Cap? Because I can go on, but I know that fellas your age aren’t always as sharp as they used to be.”

“Come on, Tony!” Clint yelled. “Stop dicking around! I already lost my wife because of you; you can’t just throw us out!”

Tony was thoroughly unimpressed. “Barton, Laura left you because you abandoned her to go fight a battle that had nothing to do with you. That’s not on me, that’s on you. And I don’t care what the United Nations says. You’re bad for my kid, so I’m kicking your asses to the curb.” 

“But the Accords --”

“Will stay intact,” Tony finished. “You’re free to move out at any time, so I’m going to very firmly suggest that you move out. Otherwise,” he grinned, “you will never be able to use any piece of technology ever again without it rickrolling you and then blowing up in your face. If that still doesn’t convince you, then I’ll hunt you down and --”

“We get it, Tony,” Sam sighed. “But what are we supposed to do?”

“Not my problem,” Tony shrugged. “I hear Hammer Industries is hiring janitors. That'd be right up your alley. Regardless, you’re out of here in two days, or I’m throwing you out myself.” The billionaire slid his sunglasses onto his nose and strode towards the elevator. “Oh,” he said, turning around, “if you even think about Peter ever again, I will murder you without a second thought.” The Scavengers stayed silent as the elevator doors closed after Tony, his arms crossed and his face a slab of stone.

Steve whirled around and immediately started on another one off his righteous tangents. “Guys, he can’t just --”

“Steve?” Natasha sighed.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction, but instead of pulling on the kid gloves, I'd really appreciate as much constructive criticism as you can give me. Did I tag correctly? Did my grammar err in paragraph 3, line two, words 7-9? Did I thematically misrepresent a character? Please tell me if I can do something better, I really want my writing to improve.


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